


Barely Breathing

by blakefancier



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier





	Barely Breathing

Blake rested against a tree, looking up at the darkened sky. The stars twinkled, clear and distant, offsetting the swollen, red-tinged moon. A killing moon. He slipped a hand in his shirt and touched his belly, running his fingers along the ridged scar tissue. He still had to be careful how he moved.

It was a gift from Avon; a terrible reminder that he was all too mortal.

He took a deep breath and felt the cold air sting his lungs. It tasted like excitement, pure and unfettered. He allowed the moment of peace to steady him before he pushed off from the tree and resumed his walk of the perimeter.

He was careful to keep quiet; there were still bounty hunters in the area. That was why he was surprised to find Avon a few minutes later.

Avon was sitting with his knees pressed to his chest, hugging his legs, staring into a smallish fire. Blake opened his mouth to chastise him for his stupidity, but the words would not come. He watched for a moment. The flames softened the lines of Avon's face and cast red-orange highlights in his hair. He looked very young.

Blake sat next to him. "I still don't know what would be a more fitting punishment, killing you or letting you live."

"Neither do I," Avon replied quietly.

"We're moving off Gauda Prime in a few days. I'm going with Deva and the new recruits…the ones who survived." Blake paused, waiting for Avon to ask the obvious question. When he didn't, Blake went on. "I'll give you and your crew a ship. You won't follow us."

"I see."

"You shot me, I don't owe you anything," he said. "And you've never been indebted to anyone. So you're free."

"I'll never be free." There was a tinge of anger in the words.

Blake shook his head. "That's not my problem. I never made you a slave to me. You've done that to yourself."

Avon licked his lips, still staring into the fire. "I love you," he whispered.

His stomach clenched and he felt giddiness well up in him. He wanted to laugh until he cried. "Well, I don't love you. Not any more."

"I know." Avon looked up from the flames into his eyes. "You've ruined me for anyone else."

"Perhaps that's my revenge then. Surely you don't expect me to pity you?"

He shrugged. "Why should you? You've never pitied anyone but yourself."

Blake snorted. "You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? It would be so simple to make me the villain. Roj Blake: rebel, terrorist, molester of children and innocent computer technicians. Only I never touched those children and I never touched you. The truth is that I never cared enough to pity you."

Lies, of course, all lies. Avon probably knew that but he didn't say anything. He just swallowed and let his eyes search Blake's face. Then he slowly leaned in.

Blake almost allowed it. Almost. At the last moment he turned his head, feeling the press of Avon's forehead against his hair, his breath on his cheek. "Maybe I should pity you. You're rather pitiful."

Blake turned and pushed Avon onto his back. There was a moment when he thought Avon would fight. He could feel Avon's muscles tensing then nothing. Avon averted his face and closed his eyes.

Blake fucked him then. He shoved Avon's trousers down, rolled him onto his stomach and fucked him viciously. If he had known it would be like this, he would have done it long ago. He loved the way Avon's skin warmed at his touch, the way he moved in erratic thrusts, the way he molded against him.

With one last shove and a grunt, Blake finished. Avon was breathing in sobs beneath him. He reveled in it for a minute before he stood up and tucked himself in.

Avon got to his feet slowly. There was dirt along one side of his face and a bloody scrape on his cheek. He pulled his pants and trousers up, hands shaking.

Blake smiled quickly. "We should get back to base."

Avon nodded and put out the fire.

Neither spoke until they make it to the base entrance.

"I'm sorry," Avon said.

"For what? I should be thanking you, Avon. You reminded me that I'm fallible, that I'm human. You reminded me that I'm alone." Blake ran his fingers down Avon's jaw. "Trust no one, rely on no one... tell me you love me."

Avon blinked. "Why?

"I want to hear the pain in your voice." Blake kissed his temple, then his eyes. The soft fragile skin of the lids and flutter of lashes brought a lump to his throat. "Say it."

"No."

Blake grabbed him by the upper arms. "What does it matter now? You've said it once already."

"I won't. Blake, I won't." Avon bared his teeth.

He would, Blake could make him say it. Blake kissed his throat, feeling him swallow and breathe. He wanted to ask Avon what it felt like to be in love with someone who hated him, but he knew the answer.

Then he was kissing Avon's ear, running his tongue along the edge of the lobe until Avon was tense and quivering in his arms. "Please," he whispered.

Avon was panting and pressing himself against Blake. "Don't. I don't--"

Blake sucked a path to Avon's mouth. He brought his lips close so that they almost touched... almost kissed. "Avon?"

"Yes," he mouthed.

"I wish I had sold you. I would now if I could."

Avon stumbled back, face pale with shock.

"It's too bad you were such a terrible shot." Blake smiled, feeling as if his face were going to crack. "Maybe next time you should kill me."

He straightened. "Maybe next time I will."

There would be no next time.

As Avon made his way down the conduit to the base entrance, Blake said his name. "Vila loves you. He'd forgive you, if you asked him to."

Avon stilled, his gaze introspective. "I thought you didn't care?"

"Vila deserves to be happy, even if we--you don't." He stared up at the stars again and the moon, still swollen, still red. It was a killing moon.

When he looked back at the opening of the conduit, Avon was gone. He sighed and followed. There was still a lot to be done before the night was over.


End file.
